


Veneralia

by JackOfNone



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Bondage, Community: springkink, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/pseuds/JackOfNone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rydia chooses a festival day in Troia to give Edward an unobstructed view into her daydreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veneralia

"Fine day for a festival," said a voice behind him. Edward started a bit, as he had been far too absorbed in watching the dancers to notice anyone around him, and he turned in his seat to regard his visitor.

She was leaning casually against one of the Troia Palace's ornamental trees -- a tree that was already beginning to show signs of the Earth Crystal's long absence, its leaves slowly forming a puddle at the foot of the trunk. The tree might have been slowly growing brown, but she would not have looked out of place in the royal gardens at the height of the Crystal's power...she was all living and vibrant green, from the fine silk of her hair to the trailing skirts that danced around her knees.

"Rydia," Edward said, smiling. "I had wondered when you were going to show yourself. I was beginning to wonder if they'd left you behind."

"I wouldn't miss it," she said. "Although a spring festival, at a time like this? Seems a bit...out of place."

"The Epopts don't want the people to lose hope." There was a crash of cymbals, and the dancers leapt into the air, trailing their golden veils.

"Is it working?" she asked. Edward shrugged.

"There's dancing, and music," he said. "I think it's the best anyone can do."

Rydia shrugged. "Does it still hurt?" she asked. It took Edward a moment to realize that she was looking at the ornate walking stick he had leaned against the marble bench.

"No," Edward said, wrapping one hand around the hilt of the cane. "But two days of floating in the ocean are not conducive to a perfect recovery."

"But you can walk now?"

"With just a bit of a limp."

"Can you dance?"

Edward steadied himself on his cane and rose slowly, testing his weight on his injured leg. "Possibly," he said. "Slowly," he added, swaying a bit before Rydia caught his arm under the elbow in a movement so graceful it was almost like dancing already.

"Then let's dance," she said, wrapping her arms around Edward's waist.

The drums behind them beat at an exuberant pace, and Edward found himself stepping every third note -- a tranquil counterpoint to the ecstatic dance the temple maidens were performing on the stage, to the delight of a crowd of onlookers who clapped in time with the music. Edward could not remember the last time he had heard music from something other than his own lonely harp, or danced with anyone in his arms...there were so many simple things he had taken for granted before the fall of Damcyan, and so much that he missed.

"I used to dream about this, you know." Rydia said it so quietly that he almost did not hear her.

"Dream about what?" Edward said, spinning her around a little faster. She grined and leaned close to lay her head on his shoulder.

"Dancing with you."

Edward's steps came to an abrupt halt. "I...really?" he managed. Rydia laughed.

"Don't act so surprised! Did you never once consider how a little girl might feel when she travels with a young fellow as kind and handsome as you?"

"I...suppose I didn't," Edward said, unsure of how else to respond to such lavish compliments.

"And a prince besides! Since then I've met the Prince of Eblan, the Prince of All Hellfire, the Prince of Earthquakes, and a great variety of kings, but none of them have ever been as charming as you."

"You only had harsh words for me when we met."

Rydia sighed. "None of us were ourselves that day."

Edward immediately regretted bringing up the subject, and filled the ensuing silence with more dancing. Eventually, Rydia raised her head and caught his gaze.

"You did think of me, though? While I was gone?"

"I worried about you," Edward said. "I was so glad to hear you were safe."

"I thought about you a lot when I lived in the Feymarch," Rydia said. Her smile had returned -- a wry, mischievous smile that reminded him uncomfortably of Anna. She would have liked to meet Rydia, Edward thought wistfully. Perhaps they would have been great friends.

"Did you always think about dancing?"

"Mmm. Not when I got older."

Edward felt his face turn crimson. Rydia must have noticed, because she leaned in so close that her lips were brushing the tips of his ear, and said "Third room on the second floor." Her room. Edward let go of her shoulders, and she curtseyed.

"Much obliged, Your Highness," she said, and danced off laughing.

Two hours later, despite deciding at least three separate times that he should go back to his own room and go to bed, Edward found himself in the doorway of one of the Palace's many guest rooms, leaning on his cane and looking a bit uneasy.

Rydia had been perched on the edge of her bed with her knees drawn up, curling her toes around the side of the coverlet; her eyes lit up when Edward pushed open her door, and she slid to her feet.

"I was wondering when you would show up," she said, and moved to wrap her arms around him.

"Rydia, I shouldn't...We shouldn't--" Edward stammered, but Rydia laid one long finger against his lips.

"Cecil and Rosa have each other. Kain wants to wallow in his own sorrow, and Edge wants to do the same with his anger. But us...we're all alone, aren't we?"

"Rydia, I don't think--"

"In just a few days we'll be going farther away than anyone on earth has ever gone, and we might not come back. How do you think I'd feel if I missed my last chance to pay you back for eighteen years of good dreams?" She smiled as she said it, but Edward could hear the twinge of sadness in her voice.

It was that edge of melancholy that turned another protest into a meek "I suppose I could--"

Rydia expressed her approval by abruptly flinging her arms around Edward's shoulders and pressing her lips to his in a kiss so full of passion and immediacy that it left him breathless. Instinctually he closed his eyes as he returned the kiss hesitantly, and was suddenly conscious of the feel of her body pressed against him, soft and draped in unearthly silks...and, simultaneously, the force of her desperate kiss, the uncanny strength of her embrace, and the hard handle of her whip, still carelessly slung at her side.

There was a loud crack as Rydia slammed the door shut. Edward jumped and nearly fell on his weak leg, but Rydia kept her hold on him. "That was the first part," she said, with a small smile.

"The kiss?" Edward said. Rydia nodded.

"And then you would sweep me off my feet, and then there'd be a royal wedding."

Edward laughed. "Is that all?"

"When you're ten years old, it is. But..."

Her arms slid around his waist and she guided him to the edge of her bed. And just as suddenly as she had slammed the door, she shoved him firmly onto it. He landed in a surprised heap on the opulent down coverlet, and before he had time to protest she was on top of him -- her lips on his throat, her hands slipping underneath the sash at his waist, her hips pressed against his and her legs twining around him. Edward shivered as she whispered something barely audible, her breath tingling against his skin. He reached up blindly, pushing against her almost reflexively -- this was all too fast, too sudden, too much -- but she grabbed his wrists and pushed them roughly above his head.

Edward opened his eyes. Rydia let go with one hand and picked up his sash -- he hadn't even noticed her removing it. "You stay put," she said, in a voice she usually reserved for commanding monsters, and wound the sash around his wrists.

"Is...is this...also part of your dream?" Edward asked, helplessly. Rydia knotted the sash to the headboard with the practiced expertise of a sailor.

Rydia had not lost her smile, which suddenly seemed incongruously innocent. "I had a lot of time to think," she said. "Now, are you going to behave?"

Edward blinked, and Rydia clucked her tongue at his hesitation. In a the blink of an eye she was on him again, nipping at his ear and undoing the ties of his tunic to run her fingers across bare skin...when abruptly, she pulled away, leaving him gasping.

"I think you should be quicker about giving me an answer."

"Yes," Edward whispered, breathless. Rydia had pulled her whip from her belt, and she leaned forward with the handle turned in her hand. Edward closed his eyes as she ran the polished wood along his chest and down the curve of his thigh. She shifted above him, and there was the rustle of silk on silk; his eyes fluttered open to see that Rydia was kneeling over him and had drawn up her skirts to expose a pale expanse of thigh.

"A clever and kind prince like you should know what to do next," she said, keeping the whip pressed against his thigh and twining her other hand in his hair.

"You really have put a lot of thought into this," Edward murmured. Rydia merely laughed -- a laugh as clear as a well-tuned harp that quickly became a breathless moan of delight.


End file.
